


Unfinished Business

by epersonae



Series: Aftermath [33]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Post-Canon, post-coital sleepies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 00:42:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18767671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epersonae/pseuds/epersonae
Summary: The cannonball lands neatly in the back garden as Magnus and Lucretia say their goodbyes to Lup and Barry — friendly hugs, kisses on the cheek, assurances of future gatherings. No one is quite willing to be the first to part, though obviously it’s time. Until Lucretia pulls herself tall, lets out a breath, and nods at the other three.Lucretia goes home to the moon. Magnus comes along for the ride. They get a little break before she has to go back to work.





	Unfinished Business

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of the events of Take a Bite and Don't Ask Me/What You Know Is True, although I suppose all you _need_ to know is that Magnus and Lucretia had dinner and sexytimes at Barry and Lup's the previous night and stayed over.

The cannonball lands neatly in the back garden as Magnus and Lucretia say their goodbyes to Lup and Barry — friendly hugs, kisses on the cheek, assurances of future gatherings. No one is quite willing to be the first to part, though obviously it’s time. Until Lucretia pulls herself tall, lets out a breath, and nods at the other three.

“Thank you,” and it’s the gracious diplomat’s tone, no matter how sincerely she means it. Barry nods back. Lup winks.

And then they’re in the ball, Magnus and Lucretia sitting side by side, quiet as the garden, the house, the city all recede below them.

He says finally, as he often does, “Did you have to make ‘em see-through? You know somebody’s gonna yartz.” And she laughs, as she always does, though she’s still looking down at the specks of Lup and Barry below them.

“You could come with me to Raven’s Roost,” he says, but she’s shaking her head before he even finishes the sentence, and so he just sighs, and before she can say it, says, “Too much work.”

She puts a hand on his cheek and murmurs, “Soon, I promise.” He just hums doubtfully in response. “Really,” she says. and the hand on his cheek strays up into his hair, still damp from the shower — Lup and Barry’s shower — and she bites her lip. His mouth falls slack at the touch, and then she tugs, the slightest pull at the roots, which draws a soft sound almost like a groan.

“Luce,” he says, his eyes wide and fixed on her.

“Yes, Magnus?” and for a moment she wishes for a slower mode of travel, for time to savor a moment outside of time and place. 

But, he rushes in, and as he leans toward her, her hand slips to the back of his head, down the nape of his neck, and his mouth is on hers, warm and heady and she can feel the roughness of his stubble. They’re both breathing fast and shallow as they kiss. (And she can’t help but compare — none better or worse, but the memory echoes in their kiss.)

They only pause when the shadow of the moon’s facade throws a shadow over the cannonball. She looks at him, feeling the flush in her cheeks as he says, “You’re sure?”

She laughs, and her resolve is as ragged as her voice under the influence of his hand on her knee, the look in his dark eyes.

“Or I could stay up here a little while?” he asks. She kisses him again by way of answer, the lightest peck on the lips. He tries to chase it deeper but she pulls away as the cannonball comes to a stop in the hangar.

Their hands thread together even as they exit, and instead of calling for a ride to the Roost, he walks with her through the campus. Her domain, where she knows every plant and path and building — the home she carved out of the sky and remade after the end of the world. And now she can hold her lover’s hand and it’s...easy? Not uncomplicated, but unremarkable and ordinary.

He squeezes her hand and they smile at each other, somehow fond and knowing at the same time. He winks, or at least tries to, and she laughs, but also thinks of Lup: that wink, that smile, and the laugh is followed by a sigh.

“I mean, if you’re not up to— I know it was a late night….” he says as his gait slows, and she pauses, because it’s not that, not at all. There’s a fire in her limbs, something she’d forgotten she could feel, and the moon itself is not enough to contain it.

She leans to kiss his cheek, to murmur in his ear, “We could take care of some unfinished business… I mean, I'm game if you are,” just to see him blush, try to laugh, swallow heavily instead.

Finally he manages an uneven chuckle. “I mean… We… There’s  _ unfinished business?” _ All said in a tone of such incredulity that it almost masks the the hunger beneath. 

Again a soft murmur against his jaw, “Oh, I’m sure there’s a few things….”

He grips her hand tighter and starts walking with almost comical swiftness across the grassy quad. She considers the long walk across the campus from the hangar to her quarters, the amount of work sitting on her desk, her available spell slots, whether anyone is paying attention to them, whether she wants a stilted conversation with her assistant this morning — and takes her wand from the pocket of her robes. With a murmured spell, they’re in her quarters.

He gasps, a sound of surprise and delight and she starts to laugh, but he swallows the sound with a kiss. They look at each other, a wordless understanding, a tender pause, and gratitude floods her anew.

“Love you, Luce,” he says, the tone an echo of her heart. His fingertips brush her face, and he pulls her close into another kiss. She walks backwards toward her bedroom, her hands on his hips, until her knees back up against the bed. With a glance she realizes the bed is full of all the discarded outfits from yesterday’s indecision, a hesitancy that seems to belong to another person, a doubt that seems amusing now.

“Clothes,” she murmurs, and starts to turn, but he’s just pulling his shirt over his head.

“Yeah, totally, cool cool,” he says through the layer of fabric.

“That’s not what I meant,” she laughs as she grabs an armful of robes from the bed. He’s shimmying out of his pants, kicking his shoes into the corners of the room.

“Sure, but have you considered….” And he pulls up her dress, her arms twisted up into the sleeves pulled off almost to her elbows and the bundle of clothes, and there’s something — a moment of panic, a deep pulse of lust — as she starts to tip backwards, but his arm firm around her waist; he gently lowers her to the bed. 

Her heart thuds in her chest, and he says, “Breathe, baby,” as they untangle the clothes, pull her rumpled dress the rest of the way off. He lays beside her propped up on one elbow, and asks, “You good?”

She laughs and kisses the tip of his nose; there’s an urge there, a desire to be confined and out of control, unconsidered all this time, that she may need to consider later, but not today.

“Well, now we’re laying on my entire wardrobe, so that’s not ideal,” she says.

“Oh, that? That’s nothing,” he replies, pushing away all the accumulated clothes, letting them fall with a whump to the floor. She lets out an exasperated sigh, more exaggerated than real, and he jumps up to pick up the clothes. It never stops being a delight and a surprise to have him here in her quarters, comfortable and happy in her space...and of course cheerfully naked, whistling as he futilely tries to shake out the wrinkles and hangs them wrinkles and all. He turns finally, hands on his hips.

“What was that about unfinished business then?” he asks with a grin. “We should get to it, if you’ve got meetings and shit.”

She’s just thinking about what she wants to do to him (what she wants to  _ see _ done to him, but that’s for another time) when he rounds the corner of the bed. In a motion almost too quick to see, he’s dropped to his knees and pulled her to the edge of the bed, pressing a kiss to her panties before peeling them off.

He looks up at her with a broad smile, a twinkle in his hazel eyes, then slowly leans in. “Did not get to do this,” he says, “which you know, fun to watch, but….” 

He trails off as his mouth brushes her cunt; her hips arc up to him, and he throws an arm over her. She swallows, licks her lips, eyes locked on his. 

Magnus says, “So…. He’s good, yeah?” His fingertips tap her hip as his tongue barely teases her.

She thinks of the couch, of Lup draped over her, Barry kneeling at her feet, his mouth on her. Magnus watching them, rapt.

She nods, and her voice comes out as a tremble. “Yes.”

“Huh.” He leans back on his heels; one arm still holding her down, the other hand trailing down her thigh. “Cooool. Wonder if we could, I dunno, exchange tips or whatever? He’s a science guy, bet he’s got it all like, in a notebook or something.” He strokes the inside of Lucretia’s thigh. “Feel like I know a few things….” He drops his mouth to her and licks in slow firm strokes.

She whimpers his name.

“Yeah? I could show him, maybe, if you wanted?” And for all the teasing in his voice, there’s a tenderness in his eyes, a question and not a demand.

“Oh gods, Magnus, please,” she moans, and the image is fully-formed in her mind, the mirror of the night before, or perhaps she’d lean against Barry’s solid chest while Magnus fucks her with his mouth. She tries to lift her hips to his mouth, but is still held fast.

“You want that?” All she can do is laugh, the words chased out of her as she collapses back again. She can hear the grin in his voice as he says, “Yeah me too, but can’t today, I guess, so….” And then his mouth is back on her, tongue stroking her lips, he sucks at her clit with a steady pressure that has her grabbing handfuls of sheets and pushing up into him. And then his free hand working its way in, his fingers pressing, pausing to lick his fingers, and then he thrusts with two fingers while his tongue caresses her clit. All the comparisons, all the memories, the future hopes, it all drops away under the intensity of the moment.

“More,” she breathes, and he laughs against her pubic mound, hungry and joyful as she is.

“More?” which she can only answer with a thrust of her hips, and he responds adding another finger, stroking slow and steady as he licks around his fingers, up to swirl around her clit. The pressure builds and she’s panting, so close it’s like being suspended over a cliff, waiting for the fall.

She’s panting and whining, and he answers with steady encouragement, his voice low and warm, switching from tongue to thumb against her clit, softly urging her with each motion of his hand. She feels full and trembling, a thread pulled taught in his hands, gasping. And one more stroke of his thumb and she’s coming, arcing off of the bed with a sharp cry, his free arm wrapped around her: for a second everything is still, the universe condensed to the silent perfect space of her orgasm.

She collapses back onto the bed with a shudder as he ever so slowly withdraws his hand. When she props herself up on her elbows, he’s grinning.

“Your boy’s still got it?” he asks.

“Gods, Magnus,” she says weakly. Then with a chuckle, “I’ll review with the committee and we’ll see how the judges point average comes back.”

He blushes, turns his head to press a kiss against her inner thigh. She squirms at his ticklish sideburns, and he tickles her a little more, just a little bit, not too much.

“Yes, yes, fine, it was amazing.  _ As always. _ ”

He laughs. One more kiss on her knee, then running his hands up her thighs to grip her hips, looks at her with heat in his eyes. She beckons him onto the bed and he hovers above her, but with one leg she sweeps his knees, flipping him onto his back. She straddles his hips and he blinks up at her.

“I do keep up with my training,” she says.

“Fuck, Luce,” he whispers, eyes gone enormous with lust and surprise. “Really?”

It’s her turn to grin, as she slides onto him easily, watching his eyes roll back, hearing the low groan. His hands go to her hips as they fuck, working into a familiar rhythm without a word. When she drapes herself over him to rest against his chest, her mouth against his cheek, he slows, and she groans at the drag of him against her, wet and sensitive. She kisses his cheek, and he turns his head towards her, as they kiss slow and lazy, barely moving against each other.

“I want to see you eat her out while I ride you, just like this,” she says, shifting her hips, and he whimpers. “I want you to feel it, both of us wet and hungry,” and she sits up again; he grabs her thighs and rolls his hips up. A wave of delighted laughter rolls through her. “You wouldn’t be able to  _ see _ us kiss, would you? But you’d know,” and now she’s just as heated at the thought, and she grinds hard against him, he responds in kind, and then it’s too much, she can imagine but the images are too fast and fleeting to say aloud. 

She can feel him close to his climax, see the sweat curl his hair, his eyes on her wide and a little wild. With a sly smile she tilts her hips just so and places fingers alongside her clit: what if that were Lup’s hand, she thinks but doesn’t say, and that thought sends her reeling even more, until she’s pulsing under her own hand, around Magnus’s cock. Distantly she hears him moan out her name; she thinks she replies in kind, but maybe it’s Lup’s name on her lips as she comes again?

When she falls forward against him again, it’s only a heartbeat before he throws an arm around her waist and flips them both over, and he’s fucking into her with his eyes screwed shut, his face bright with lust and exertion. She pulls him close with her legs wrapped around him, no more fantasies and what-ifs, just the heat and energy of him working to his own peak. His eyes open with a flash, and his gaze is fierce on her as he murmurs her name over and over. They pause for a moment, just looking at each other, and then he flops sideways heavily, bouncing her a little on the bed.

“Godsdamn, Luce,” he says, finally, staring up at the ceiling, and lets out a long contented sigh. He wraps an arm around her and she curls against his side with an equally contented hum. When he rolls onto his side to face her, his eyes are sleepy, and he mumbles something she can’t quite make out. She kisses the tip of his nose; he smiles as his eyes fall shut. “Jus’ a nap?” he slurs.

“Stay as long as you want,” she murmurs, slipping out of his arms and draping a blanket over him. He pulls it around him and without opening his eyes grabs the spare pillow and hugs it to his chest. She chuckles and ruffles his hair, but he’s already asleep.

When he wakes, she’s in bed beside him, sitting up in a loose robe with a pile of papers on her lap, quill tucked behind her ear as she reads a report from her operative in Goldcliff. 

“Working?” he says with a sleep-thickened voice.

“Alas, the world still goes on,” she replies, setting the stack onto the bedside table to lean over and give him a kiss.

“And you’re going to keep saving it,” his voice a mix of amusement and pride.

“Something like that.”

He steals the quill from behind her ear to tickle her cheek with the feathered end, saying, “Lucky I’m around to make sure you take care of you once in a while.” A waggled eyebrow, a kiss pressed to the cheek he’d been tickling, a murmur against her ear like it’s a precious secret: “And now I have help.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feels good to be back on my bullshit, honestly; and yes, there is more coming in this series, both smut and plot.


End file.
